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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27463723">Lie, Like, Love</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/kalivio/pseuds/kalivio'>kalivio</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Haikyuu!!</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Comedy, Domestic Fluff, Explicit for future chapters, Fluff, Heavy References to The Song of Achilles, How Do I Tag, M/M, Maybe NSFW I'll think about it, Oikawa is me in every customer service job I've ever had, Single Parent Oikawa Tooru, Slow Burn, mafia, organised crime</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 18:01:56</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>8,645</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27463723</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/kalivio/pseuds/kalivio</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>When Oikawa sees an opportunity, he takes it. So when a particularly insufferable (not to mention hot and rich) customer develops amnesia in his small little seaside town, he decides to take up the challenge to... pretend to be his fiancé and steal his money!? On the other hand, doesn't everything seem a little too easy? There's no such thing as a free lunch...</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou, Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru, Kozume Kenma/Kuroo Tetsurou</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>33</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. take a seat back in your clamshell</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Oikawa was frankly exhausted. His nursing course had him by his last two brain cells, and he totally bombed his test on it, but that’s because he’s one of those bastards who say they’re going to fail but get top marks. Working as a bartender by night and a student and waiter by day had him wishing he was a sugar baby. But even he won’t sink to that level. Not yet, at least. </p><p>He glanced at the clock on the wall as he leaned against the counter, wiping a coupe glass. Twenty-three minutes to the end of his shift. <em> You can do this, Oikawa, </em>he thought to himself for the umpteenth time today. As the bell to the shop jingled, he reflexively slapped a smile on and looked up to greet his new customers.</p><p>To his distaste, they were a rather loud group. All of them may have started the night well-dressed, but by now they looked ready to pass out. After having this job for such a long time one is obviously expected to get used to these things, but Oikawa still groaned inwardly. He knew instinctively that one would be passed out on the floor, the other on the table. The others would be reeling or cackling soon enough. If God really wanted to piss in his cereals, there would be a few puddles of vomit too. </p><p>A member from the group approached the bar. She looked way better off than the rest of them, to Oikawa’s relief. She had a delicate and sophisticated sort of aura around her. Dressed the way that she was, he knew right away that she had never worked a job like his before. </p><p>“What can I get you?” </p><p>“Mmm…” she mused as she took off her gloves. “What about a winter daiquiri?” </p><p>“Coming right up.” </p><p>As he shook the drink in Boston shakers, he attempted to make small talk with the woman. “Rough night?” </p><p>“For me, not so much,” she smiled up at Oikawa, gesturing over to her group as she continued. “For my brother, maybe.”</p><p>In the middle of the gang stood a man with jet black hair. He bore a subtle resemblance to the woman. Maybe it was the fact that neither of them passed the 6ft mark, or that their hair was the same colour, or that they were both attractive. But it ended right there. Oikawa wrinkled his nose ever so slightly, pouring the drink into a coupe. How were these two people even related? </p><p>She was refined and reserved, evidenced by the watch she was wearing and her mannerisms. He, on the other hand, was nursing a bottle of beer with the top two buttons of his shirt unbuttoned. Every so often, he would raise his bottle in a toast to something stupid.</p><p>In spite of his silent prayers, he caught sight of his sister and ambled towards her. He was walking in a line that was almost as straight as Oikawa.</p><p>“Hey Hideko.”</p><p>The man threw an arm around his sister, nearly causing her to fall off of her bar stool, then threw back the last of his beer. She clicked her tongue at him.</p><p>“Hello Iwaizumi.”</p><p><em> Oh, so that’s his name, </em>Oikawa thought. He made a mental note of it in case he needed to ban him from the bar for eternity. </p><p>“I was just telling him what a wonderful brother you are,” she gestured across the bar at Oikawa, who greeted Iwaizumi in return.</p><p>“Hello, sir.”</p><p>“Mmmmello.”</p><p>Iwaizumi plopped himself beside his sister, and proceeded to order a drink. Well, that’s what Oikawa thought he did. A lot of his speech was slurred. Just as he pulled up a lime and a knife to cut it, his sister intervened.</p><p>“No, I think he’ll just have a glass of water, please.”</p><p>Oikawa glanced over at the man and chuckled. “That he will.”</p><p>“Hideko,” He tried to argue against her. “I’m older, you know.”</p><p>“In that case, you're not bloody acting like it right now.”</p><p>When Oikawa turned around, it was his turn to be attacked by Iwaizumi. “And you! Why do you do what she says, huh? She’s not your boss!.. I think. Give me my <em> bloody </em> tequila.”</p><p><em> “Iwaizumi!” </em> she hissed at him. His sister’s face was slowly turning redder by the second, embarrassed by how her brother was acting. </p><p>Instead of screaming at the man like how he was imagining he was inside his head, he smiled courteously at her. “It’s fine, ma’am.”</p><p>Turning to him, Oikawa’s grin shifted ever so slightly to hint at the accumulating frustration he was feeling towards him. “Sir, I must remind you to refrain from getting blackout drunk in public. If you must, I’m sure your sister and many others like me would prefer you do so in private… <em> Iwa-chan. </em>”</p><p>At these words, Hideko snorted. She covered her mouth and turned away, leaving Iwaizumi to turn beet red as his mind realised he had been addressed. For some reason, it seemed to have sobered him up not unlike a slap to the face.</p><p>“I’ll get drunk where I wanna get drunk,” he snarled. His eyes analysed Oikawa as if he was reading it like an open book. However, he didn’t back down. He won’t ever back down. Not to someone like this. “And what’s with that flashy face, huh? Usually you’d find something like that in a…” </p><p>Iwaizumi smirked, and Oikawa decided right then and there that maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea to get fired for causing grievous harm to a customer. </p><p>“Well, in a less sophisticated bar than this.”</p><p>The next few moments were a blur. Oikawa was pretty sure there was some yelling with very colourful yet unimaginative language. It eventually resulted in a livid Iwaizumi, now soaked in water and a very disgruntled and slightly battered Oikawa. </p><p>Looking up, he noticed Hideko standing above him, offering a hand. “I hope you forgive my brother. He’s…” she sighed then shrugged. “He’s not usually like this.”</p><p>“I hope he isn’t, goddamn,” he accepted and pulled himself up, dusting himself off. “And I’m not either. Sorry about that?”</p><p>She smiled. “Nothing to be sorry about. He’s a dick when he’s drunk. But I’m pretty sure you know that by now, huh?”</p><p>“Mhmm.”</p><p>“Though, I have to say, the ‘Iwa-chan’ was a stroke of genius.”</p><p>“Thanks?” </p><p>Hideko grinned once more, and hoisted up what was probably one of her friends. “Be seeing you, Oikawa-san.”</p><hr/><p>Oikawa let himself into the house and dramatically draped himself over the sofa in the living room. This wasn’t his house, but over the years he had garnered a free pass. The two-floored house featured a spacious high-ceilinged central common space and a chandelier. He still wasn’t used to it, but that’s not to say he didn’t like it very much. He did. But he also learned to avoid the bedrooms, even the guestrooms, if he was not formally invited. </p><p>Nevertheless, it was always a welcome escape from the two screaming kids in his own place. Not that he hated them — he loved them to bits, goddamn it — but everyone needed some alone time, right? Plus, he loved coming here and gossiping like they were nosy little housewives. </p><p>He let out a loud groan, not really to voice his frustration, but to announce his presence. A few minutes later, Akaashi appeared from the kitchen, holding a laundry basket against his hips. The clothes were fresh from the dryer. “What is it now, Oikawa?” </p><p>He just groaned louder. </p><p>Sighing, he set down the basket on the coffee table. “Do you want something to drink?”</p><p>“Oh god, yes.” </p><p>He disappeared off to the kitchen as Oikawa sighed and pressed a hand to his temples. “They always say ‘when life gives you lemons’ but what happens when life gives you, like, mouldy socks, Akaashi?” </p><p>“You drink wine.”</p><p>He reappeared and offered Oikawa a full glass, and he sat up and eagerly accepted it from him. Taking a sip, he savoured the taste for a moment before letting it slip down his throat. He grinned.</p><p>“Exactly the right answer.”</p><p>“Bokuto told me what happened.”</p><p>“He did? Of course he did, ugh. You two don’t keep anything from each other, as expected.” Oikawa hugged a nearby silk pillow to his chest, then buried his face in it. It smelled like some fancy lavender laundry detergent. “What did he say?”</p><p>“He said you threw a bitch fit after some drunkard said you looked flashy.”</p><p>“Do I look flashy, though?” Oikawa pouted, setting the glass down on the table to flop down on the sofa again. The alcohol was seeping into his body now, and his arms started to tingle a little. </p><p>Akaashi agreed without any hesitation, which was answered with a pillow to his face.</p><p>“What interests me though, is the fact that you let him get to you. What happened?”</p><p>“Well, I was <em> super </em> stressed over my NCLEX results, and it was getting pretty late, then I remembered I had to take Kazumi to ballet the next day so-”</p><p>“So he was hot.”</p><p>Oikawa paused, then peaked out from another pillow he had pulled out from behind him. Slowly, he nodded.</p><p>A triumphant smile spread across Akaashi’s face. “Looks like I’m gonna be $15 richer tonight, then.”</p><p>Oikawa’s eyes widened for a moment, before he threw another pillow at him. He dodged it this time. “Y’all took bets on it? You’re so cruel,” he whined. Taking another sip of wine, he continued. “And it was so unfair! He was such a fucking asshole, but like, so…”</p><p>When he glanced at Akaashi’s grinning face, Oikawa glared at him, then made an indignant <em> hmph! </em>sound as he turned away. He took a bigger swig of wine. </p><p>“Whatever. I’ll probably never see him again, anyway,” he grumbled.</p><p>“Why would you say that? The universe has its ways, y’know. Especially when it comes to matters of the heart.” Akaashi gestured over at the laundry. “Help me fold, won’t you?”</p><p>He wrinkled his nose at him as he reached over for the basket. He had an endearing habit of talking like some pretentious village elder, which Oikawa did not appreciate. “The guy’s practically dipped in gold. One of those rich bastard types, I think.”</p><p>“Oh.”</p><p>“And I got fired too.”</p><p>“What!?”</p><p>“Right? And I just poured water on him.”</p><p>“ ‘<em> Just’ </em>poured water on him, huh?”</p><p>“And maybe punched him. I don’t know. It was kind of a blur.”</p><p>“Right. A blur.”</p><p>Oikawa made another noncommittal noise of displeasure, then buried his face into the shirt he was folding. Akaashi set down his own glass on the coffee table, and snatched the shirt out of his hands.  </p><p>“Damn, I just washed this! And you got your foundation on it, ugh.”</p><p>“Whatever, Mom.”</p><p>Setting the shirt down, he sighed exasperatedly. “Did you even catch his name?”</p><p>“Yep. Iwaizumi. Though I called him Iwa-chan to get on his nerves and come to think of it, I like the sound of it. I think I’ll keep it.”</p><p>“Didn’t you say that you’ll never see him again? When would you even get the chance to call him that again? In your dreams?” Akaashi got up and went to the dining room, then came back with his phone in hand. </p><p>“Whatcha doing with that?”</p><p>“Well, if he’s really as rich as you say, then I’m pretty sure I can find him. If not, Kenma can.”</p><p>“I thought I’ll never see him again?”</p><p>Akaashi looked up from his phone with a playful smirk on his lips. He flicked Oikawa’s forehead, then continued typing away. </p><p>“Not on my watch, Tooru-kun.”</p><p>“I hate it when you treat me like a little kid. I’m older than you. You know that, right?”</p><p>“Mhmm. Whatever you say, Tooru-kun.”</p><p>“Ugh. And when will you stop playing Cupid?”</p><p>Akaashi turned to meet Oikawa’s eyes with his, and snorted. “ ‘Stop’? Honey, I haven’t even started.”</p><hr/><p>
  <em> Ping! </em>
</p><p>Kuroo groggily sat up in bed, and started to pat down the nightstand beside him. This wasn’t his bed, but he had always been its most frequent occupant. Its actual owner didn’t sleep often, you see. When he finally found the phone, he looked at the notification and waited for his eyes to adjust to the sudden brightness.</p><p>A text from Akaashi? At 11pm?</p><p>Down the hallway, he could hear the shower running. Alright, then. It’s good that he was taking a bath. Kuroo looked back at the phone, and its lockscreen. It was a picture of their ginger tabby cat, Shoyo. He was at a loss so as to why someone would name a cat after their best friend. Again, it wasn’t his phone either, but he had long ago guessed the password.</p><p> </p><p>Kuroo: Hey Akaashi. Kuroo here. What’s up?</p><p>Akaashi: Do you know you answer Kenma’s phone more often than you answer your own?</p><p>K: What can I do? His password is my birthday, yknow. That’s sweet as fuck. </p><p>A: Ew. Whatever. Anyway, once Kenma gets out of his gaming-induced coma or whatever, get him to look into some dude named Iwaizumi. Pretty rich, or so I’m told. Should be easy. </p><p>K: Oooh. So what did he do this time? </p><p>A: Nothing </p><p>K: You’re trying to set up Oikawa again, huh? </p><p>A: I mean, I’ve got to have some form of entertainment, right?</p><p> </p><p>Kuroo wrinkled his nose at the phone. Akaashi’s boredom was a result of a lack of employment, a lack of worries, and a lack of nearly all adult troubles. Everything was served to him on a silver platter now. That’s what happens when your love for your mealcard is reciprocated, apparently. Kuroo sighed.</p><p>“What are you sighing for?” </p><p>He looked up at Kenma, who was rubbing his hair with a towel as he entered the room. Immediately, a smile spread across Kuroo’s face as he opened his arms for a hug. Unsurprisingly, he was ignored. </p><p>“Want me to dry your hair?” he offered.</p><p>Kenma shrugged and proceeded to sit at the foot of the bed as the other got the hairdryer from a drawer. </p><p>Slowly but surely, the two of them were falling into a routine. Since Kuroo’s workplace was close to Kenma’s house, he found himself crashing here instead of his own place. At first, he was treated more like a tolerable pest, but soon they both grew accustomed to the arrangement, even without any prior discussion. When Kuroo arrived, Kenma would be asleep in his office, passed out from another gaming spree. He’d fix up dinner and leave it on his desk, then take the leftovers and eat them while watching TV before passing out on the bed. Before, he wouldn’t eat any of the meals Kuroo made for him once he woke up at some unholy hour in the night, but his unhealthy diet of energy drinks and convenience store meals eventually forced him to give in. </p><p>Kuroo came to consider this a triumph, since Kenma was gradually adding some padding to his near-skeletal frame, which was originally the result of streaming day and night, not taking proper care of himself. More like Kuroo was taking care of him. </p><p>Neither would ever admit it, but they needed the other. Kuroo needed a familiar face, and Kenma needed a… Well, he needed a caretaker.</p><p>“So who texted?” Kenma tilted his head upwards at him. “Don’t think I don’t know you look at my phone.”</p><p>“Akaashi. He just wanted you to look into someone, I guess. A rich dude. Know anyone named Iwaizumi?”</p><p>“Maybe. Pass me my phone?”</p><p>Aiming the hairdryer at Kenma’s head with one hand, Kuroo passed him the phone with the other. They sat in the company of the hairdryer’s white noise for a while more, until Kenma passed him back the phone. It was a page of a shady-looking site.</p><p>“Did you find him?” he asked.</p><p>“Yeah, but I doubt they know exactly who they’re talking about.”</p><p>The page was a missing persons poster, with the name ‘Iwaizumi Arata’ under a picture of a man scowling at the camera. A reward of a few million yen was offered for his return to… Iwaizumi Holdings?<br/><br/>Kuroo smirked. Just like one could smell ozone before lightning strikes, he could tell things were about to get interesting. “But why not put posters around town? Why just online? And why such a shady site anyway?”</p><p>Kenma just shrugged as he turned the hairdryer off. “Maybe they don’t want the whole world to know he’s missing yet.”</p><p>“Why, though?” Kuroo knitted his eyebrows together.</p><p>“Enough questions, okay? I don’t know everything about every organised crime group in Japan,” he yawned. “Let’s just sleep.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Hello! I haven't written in a long, long time... Sorry? While this work served as a stopper to my unending boredom, I can't promise I'll be able to deliver as often as you might hope. Nevertheless, comments, kudos and bookmarks might help to speed up the process!! Happy reading :)</p><p>xoxo,<br/>kalivio</p><p>P.S.: The chapter names are lyrics from Alrighty Aphrodite by Peach Pit.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. if the ocean's not enough, nor am i</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Kenma looked up at the hospital sign. This was where they said he was. Glancing down at his phone again, he confirmed it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He felt a tinge of guilt as he tucked his phone into his coat before heading inside. He had lied to Kuroo about where he was; he told him he was going grocery shopping. That in itself was a lousy lie because he never did any of that. Kuroo did the groceries, and they both knew that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nevertheless, he was here now, and there wasn’t really any going back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m looking for this man.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He held up his phone to the clerk at the counter. She nodded, and gestured to a map on her right, pointing to a building on the first floor. “Iwaizumi Hajime-san’s in the trauma bay.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Hajime-san?</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>According to his informant, a man similar in appearance to Iwaizumi Hajime was spotted at a hospital. If what Kenma knew was indeed true, then he needed to get him out of there as soon as possible. But how would he even—</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kenma quickly leaned against the door jamb of Iwaizumi’s room. On a clipboard next to the door, the name of the patient read ‘Iwaizumi Hajime’. This person had no connections. No wife, no siblings, and a fatherless bastard to boot. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Hajime, meaning new; meaning fresh.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>There was a woman inside the room right now, and he was a complete stranger. Instead, he decided to listen in on their conversation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“-I’m sorry, Arata.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So they were right. This was Iwaizumi Arata, not whoever he claimed to be. But why go to such lengths to conceal him in plain sight? What did he do? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kenma ducked down as he heard the woman get her things, and quickly busied himself with the pamphlets nearby. Sneaking a peek at the woman who had just left the room, a small gasp escaped his mouth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The woman’s name was Hideko Iwaizumi, sister of Iwaizumi Arata, and co-heir of-</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Oh.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>In the course of 12 hours, Kenma had stumbled upon the antecedent of a modern Greek tragedy. He entered the room silently and let his eyes scan the room. A man lay on the bed, and he recognised him as the man in the poster immediately. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kenma approached cautiously, coming to a stop beside the sleeping man. He rested a hand on the side of the bed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He made a face that looks almost like pity, reaching out to pat his head, then thought better of it. </span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>Tucked into a cozy little corner of a street was a cozier little cafe. Nobody remembered what the street’s actual name was, instead they just referred to it as ‘that place with the cafe’. You see, nobody bothered to recall the cafe’s name either. It was nice enough, but it was its close proximity to a few train stations had made its popularity surge. In this cafe, you would be able to find the best wifi connection in town, and arguably the best pastries too. You would also be able to find Oikawa there most of the time, working what would probably be his 8th shift this week. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m going on a break! Kunimi, could you cover for me?” he knocked on the doorjamb of the breakroom. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kunimi didn’t look up from his phone. “Y’know, no matter how many shifts you take, if you’re just gonna take breaks every 30 minutes, it’s all for naught.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oikawa giggled. “Thanks for covering for me, then.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pushing the door to the loading dock open, he sat on the steps. The biting cold tinged his nose and ears red immediately, and he kind of wished he had on something a little warmer than a sweatshirt over his work clothes. When he sighed, his breath crystallised in the air and hung there like smoke. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>What he said to Akaashi last night was true, though. He was stressed. His NCLEX results would be out soon, and the fate of… Well, the fate of a lot of things depended on it. Like the fate of Kazuki and Kazumi, for example.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But that didn’t mean he wouldn’t be able to handle it alone. He’d been doing it for the past 3 years, and it had become something like a matter of pride.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Suddenly, his phone pinged. It was a message from Akaashi.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Akaashi: There have been some ✨ developments ✨</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oikawa: oh my god what happened now?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A: I have no idea either. Kenma said he wanted to see your reaction when you find out. Bokuto too. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>O: is it a good thing or a bad thing?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A: Let’s just say we have more than enough reason to celebrate tomorrow night.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He stared at the screen, all the while scowling. He didn’t like surprises, and he didn’t like Akaashi’s definition of a surprise any better.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Letting out another sigh that crystallised in the air again, he pocketed his phone and headed back inside to the warmth of the cafe. </span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>Oikawa looked in the rearview mirror at his hair, and tried to fluff it up a little. Despite being deadbone tired, he still couldn’t let them see him at his worst, right? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Get that head, get that bread, then leave, Oikawa. You can do this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Slapping on the best smile he could muster, he got out of his car and walked towards the kindergarten-cum-daycare centre. The heavy smell of disinfectant hung in the air, mingling with the scent of… the scent of toddlers, suffice to say. As always, the place was full to the brim. Upon his arrival, he was cheerily greeted by the caretaker, Sugawara. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hello, Oikawa-san.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Caretaker-kun, good to see you. How are the kids?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mm. They’re fine, I guess.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Suga’s eyes drifted over to the sea of tiny little children, and Oikawa made a small </span>
  <em>
    <span>hmph</span>
  </em>
  <span> sound. How one could tolerate so many of these monstrous creatures was beyond him. Taking care of two already drove him mad. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oikawa-san, maybe you’ve already noticed, but more parents have been picking up their children at the same time you do~” Suga elbowed him in the ribs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Of course he had noticed. Mothers would sneak little glances at him and whisper to other fellow mothers nearby. Fathers would awkwardly clear their throats around him. It was bizarre, but it didn’t affect him. It sort of amused him, actually. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ignoring the gossiping mothers, he leaned over the playpen fence and called out. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Kazuki! Kazumi!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Immediately, his children looked up from their play and ran over to their father, clinging onto the fence. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Look, Papa! We made new friends!” Kazumi grinned up at him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kazuki pointed over to a small dark-haired boy who held the hand of a taller grumpy-looking brat. The smaller of the two waved over at Oikawa, smiling and revealing a set of teeth that was missing quite a few. He couldn’t help but do a small wave back, to which the boy giggled. The taller just regarded Oikawa, and he wrinkled his nose slightly in return. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s nice. What’re their names?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yamaguchi and Tsukkishima!” Kazuki answered for his sister, eager to have his share of the spotlight. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright then. Will you introduce them to me one day?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>All the way to the car, Oikawa was bombarded by stories of the twins’ day, and all he could do was smile and nod. The two were alike and yet not at the same time. Despite how much they reminded him of their mother, he could not come to despise them. It was not their fault. His face contorted into a frown, seemingly at nothing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Papa?” Kazumi asked, suddenly snapping him out of his reverie. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s for dinner?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oikawa smiled again. “Katsudon, if the two of you behave.”</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>It was 5am when the message came. He rose out of bed, his hair a veritable nest on his head. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sender Unknown: Hello, Kenma Kozume. I see you’ve taken an interest in my brother. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kenma looked back at the sleeping figure of Kuroo beside him, gripping his phone even tighter. Writing a short message explaining he was out for a smoke, he left it on the nightstand. He walked outside to the balcony of his room and shut the door behind him, simply staring at his screen when he leaned against the railing. Before he could decide what to do, another message arrived. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sender Unknown: Look down.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There, in the street, three floors below him, he could make out a figure of a woman in the dim winter dawn. She stood beside a black two-seater, and she had the doors to the passenger side open. In her hand, she held a phone. Upon seeing that she had his attention, she sent another message. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sender Unknown: Let’s ride, Kozume-kun.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Once he was in the car, she started down the street at once. The car smelt of new leather, instead of some cheap air freshener, and soft classical music played in the background. She clicked her tongue approvingly at him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you for meeting with me so eagerly, Kozume-kun. Most people would run away, and… Well, they’d rather ride in the trunk than the passenger seat, apparently.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kenma gave no reply. He knew exactly who this woman was, and he knew why he was here. Now that he had a closer look at her, he realised that the inner corners of her eyes drew downwards, and her makeup accentuated the long almond shape of her eyes, which gleamed bright green in the darkness. Her lips were a dark red, and it looked as if it were stained with blood. Her voice dripped with honey and with venom at the same time. It unnerved him, to say the least. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you like to skip formalities?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Again, no reply. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She sighed. “Right to business, then.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Making a turn down a street, they came to a stop outside of a warehouse. He hadn’t even noticed, but they were at the wharf already. She didn’t make any movements to exit the car. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why are you interested in my brother?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Private reasons,” he spoke quietly, just a tad above a whisper. Instinctively, he started to pull his hands closer to his body. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I doubt you’re actually interested </span>
  <em>
    <span>interested</span>
  </em>
  <span> in the oaf. I see you’ve got someone much better in your own home.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kenma stopped himself from blurting a </span>
  <em>
    <span>‘how?’</span>
  </em>
  <span>, but the statement elicited a small hitch in his breath. Hideko smiled. “I see.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“In any case, if you really are interested in him, then I guess we are one and the same.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before he could reply, she held up a hand to stop him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I mean for you to hide him, Kozume-kun. In plain sight. Take him far away, and let him live among you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She put a finger to her temples, and looked at the rearview mirror.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There is something I need to do, and he cannot be there when I do,” she said, then turned toward him. The expression she made in the light of the sunrise had no name, but Kenma knew exactly what it meant. It went something along the lines of </span>
  <em>
    <span>‘Object, and I will destroy everything you love.’ </span>
  </em>
  <span>“Can you do it, Kozume-kun?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he gave no reply, she smiled again, a self-satisfied smirk. “Thank you. I appreciate it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She turned back to face the front, and started the car again. “I shall take you back, then. I believe Kuroo is waiting for you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The way she said his name made Kenma want to barf, and he bristled visibly. This, however, drew no reaction from Hideko. They sat in silence all the way back, and the soft classical music did nothing to calm the carnivorous butterflies in his stomach. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When she pulled up to the apartment complex, Kuroo was already standing at the balcony of his room, staring at the car as he got out of it. Once he was in his vicinity, Kenma ran up and practically collapsed into him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Kenma? What’s wrong?” His eyes darted from the small shivering figure in his arms, to the car, which was pulling away from the curb already. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kuroo could feel a ‘it’s nothing’ mumbled into his shirt. </span>
  <em>
    <span>It’s probably not nothing, though.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>But he knew that he couldn’t do anything to help if Kenma was still in this state. He sighed. “Want some breakfast?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Slowly, he looked up at him. He wasn’t crying yet, at least. That’s good. “Pancakes?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Coming right up.”</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>Kuroo had been unsuccessful in trying to talk to Kenma about whatever it was that bothered him. It disturbed him, but he did nothing else to push him. The last time he had tried to do that, it wasn’t pretty. He had learned the hard way that Kenma was more capable than he had thought, and despite his worries, he could only stand by and watch.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Which was exactly what he was doing, by the way. They were at Bokuto and Akaashi’s house. Oikawa was supposed to arrive soon after dropping his kids off at Suga’s for the night. Noticing that Kenma’s leg wouldn’t stop doing that fidgety shake, Kuroo raised an eyebrow, but he kept mum. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Speak of the Devil, he thought, as the doorbell rang. Akaashi got off Bokuto’s lap and started for the door. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Moments later, Oikawa appeared, all rosy-cheeked from the cold outside. Kenma stood up, and greeted him. “Oikawa-san.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He smiled, and mussed his hair. “Kyanma-chan! Good to see you,” he plopped himself down on one of the many beanbag chairs. “Got any good news for me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kenma shrugged. “I don’t know if you would call it good news, but it is news.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He put a photo of Iwaizumi lying on the hospital bed, unconscious, on the coffee table. Oikawa gasped, as did the rest of them. “What happened?” he asked, as he put a hand to his mouth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know,” he admitted. His eyes seemed to be trained upon the picture, as if he was scared to look anywhere else. “But I do know that this is a great opportunity.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Akaashi chimed in, “An opportunity for revenge!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Revenge sex? Sounds hot,” added a grinning Bokuto.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kenma ignored them and continued. “His name is Iwaizumi Hajime. He’s got severe memory loss, and he doesn’t know who he even is. He doesn’t have any emergency contacts, nor family.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oikawa’s eyebrows knitted themselves together. “Well, that’s bullshit. He has a sister, doesn’t he? I mean, I met her, at the bar-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“People can lie. That woman you met could have deceived you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And what about him? Isn’t he rich, or something?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kenma pulled out his phone and found several articles about him. He placed the phone on the table, beside the photo. “A lottery winner of 8 million American dollars, apparently.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oikawa’s mouth formed a silent </span>
  <em>
    <span>‘oh’</span>
  </em>
  <span> as his jaw dropped. Leaning forward, Kuroo whistled appreciatively. “Jackpot, much?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bokuto regarded the scene as he crossed his arms. “So he’s rich, and he’s, like, a nobody, now what? What does Oikawa have to do with all this?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was a gleam in Akaashi’s eyes when he spoke. “Fabricate a fake life, obviously. Pretend you’re his husband or something. Get that head, get that bread, then leave, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oikawa gulped, pressing a finger to his temples, which was something he found himself doing very often these days. “But isn’t that a little mean? He’s just a confused guy, and it feels, I don’t know, it feels wrong! He’s just a drunk bastard-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A hot drunk bastard,” Kuroo interjected. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right, yeah, whatever. But isn’t this a little too, uhm, far, guys?” Oikawa’s voice had lowered itself to a mumble at this point. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>All around him, his friends shook his head. Apparently, taking advantage of a man with no memories and a whole lot of money was not considered taboo. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But how would we even do this? Make him fall in love with me, or something?” he raised his hands into the air in exasperation. “He hates me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, he doesn’t. He can’t remember he hates you, right? And didn’t you say you needed someone to help you with the kids?” Kuroo added. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, that’s true,” admitted Oikawa. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, what do you say?” Akaashi leaned forward, placing a finger on the sleeping face in the photo.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah? I mean, I guess?” he laughed, and the room erupted in cheers. Akaashi seized him by the shoulders and raised him from the beanbag chair.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Out of nowhere, Bokuto sabered a champagne bottle. The liquid sloshed onto his hands as he raised it up into the air. “Operation Honey Trap!” he declared.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>While the celebrations went on inside, Kenma sat in the driveway. He didn’t like to drink, and he didn’t like loud things. The irony here was that he was smoking, and that he was best friends with the second loudest person he knew.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hideko: Is it done?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kenma: Yes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hideko: Attaboy. Did the lottery winner articles come in handy? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kenma: Yes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hideko: Great. I’d never leave my brother without any money, yknow. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He watched as the smoke drifted up into the sky in its grey-white ringlets. Even though it was cold, there was barely any breeze here. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry about that,” a voice said behind him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t have to be sorry for anything. They’re your friends, aren’t they?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kuroo sat down beside him. “Yeah, well.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then his eyes narrowed, making Kenma flinch inwardly. “You’ve been smoking a lot lately, you know that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, really? I hadn’t…” he stared at the cig in between his forefinger and thumb. Both of them knew that he only smoked when something was on his mind, or when he was pissed, or maybe a little bit of both. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I hadn’t noticed.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Getting up, Kenma gathered his things and dropped the cigarette but on the ground. Kuroo snuffed it out with his heel, and put his arm around his shoulders, tousling his hair. “Let’s get you home.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In Kenma’s coat pocket, his phone buzzed. However, he didn’t bother to look at it because he knew who it was from. Maybe he didn’t look at it because he was scared of what the message could contain. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hideko: Careful, now.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>oh ho ho...</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. rollin' in, i feel a dark swell</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Oikawa had been tapping his fingers on the steering wheel for ages. Unconsciously keeping time to all the songs that came up on the radio, he had also been annoying the hell out of Akaashi, who was trying to sleep. Why would anyone sleep on a ride that’s 20 minutes long, he didn’t know. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey Oikawa.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah?” The tapping switched up again. It was now in quadruplets.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you trying to drill a hole in my skull with all that drumming you’re doing?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he didn’t bother to retort, Akaashi sighed. “Look, it’s just a bit of fun. A bit of entertainment, if you will.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, yeah.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was a pause as Oikawa turned right. “But what if I mess up? And what if I get too far deep? Like, 6 feet underground kinda deep?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You won’t mess up. And you know what to do if you get too far deep. You of all people should know, right?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Akaashi made eye contact with him in the rearview mirror and narrowed his eyes, smirking. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Dig deeper.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>“Where is Iwaizumi Hajime’s room?” Akaashi leaned over the counter of the receptionist, speaking to a woman. Oikawa now occupied one of the chairs in the lounge, drumming a hole into the floor with his foot. He was rendered speechless from his nerves, apparently. That was bullshit, and he knew it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The smell that accompanied all hospitals surrounded Oikawa. It was a strange mixture of disinfectants, isopropyl alcohol and latex. There were about 3 crying babies in the lounge together with him, and it made him want to tear his hair out, if he had not styled it so well this morning. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Level 7, room 724. Head up using the elevator on the right, please,” the woman gestured over Akaashi’s shoulder. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In a daze, Oikawa followed him down the twisting hallways of the hospital. It was only when they were right outside Iwaizumi’s room that he came to his senses. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Fuck,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Oikawa hissed. “I don’t think I can do this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bawk, bawk, bitch. Are you chickening out now? Even though I accompanied you?” Akaashi slapped his friend’s shoulder. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oikawa shot him a look, which was replied to with another slap on his shoulder. Standing in the doorway, he tried to put a face that said </span>
  <em>
    <span>I’m So Happy You’re Alive!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Iwa-chan! Oh my god! Where did you go?” he rushed into the room, and flung his arms around the poor patient, caught unawares having his lunch. In the midst of the commotion, Iwaizumi dropped his spoon. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh… Hello?” He was clearly baffled, but at the same time pleased that he was being shown such affection. Oikawa brought his hands up to Iwaizumi’s face, turning it left and right. “What happened? Who did this to you? I’m going to kick their ass so bad.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Akaashi took his place on one of the chairs beside the bed and smirked. He had to hand it to him. Drama had always been his forte, after all. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m fine. I really am. But, if you don’t mind my asking, who are you?” the patient smiled innocently up at him. It was at this point that Oikawa decided to burst into tears and promptly collapsed at Iwaizumi’s bedside. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A man cleared his voice at the doorway, having stood there for only God knows how long. Oikawa immediately jumped up and wiped away his tears with a hankie. Holding out his hand to the doctor, he smiled the kind of smile only people who just cried can muster. “Hi, Doc. I’m just-” </span>
  <em>
    <span>dramatic sniffle</span>
  </em>
  <span> “I’m just visiting.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And you are?” The doctor arched an eyebrow at him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My name is Oikawa Tooru.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you his brother, or something?” he flipped through the papers on the clipboard attached to Iwaizumi’s bed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh heavens, no. I’m not. Iwachan here doesn’t have any siblings.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Or any parents, it may seem.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yep,” Oikawa started to drum his fingers on the patient’s arm. It was a sign of nervousness, but he hoped that it didn’t show. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The doctor showed the clipboard to him. The page he had turned to was a blank box. The title at the top read ‘Emergency Contacts’. “Fill your name in here, sir.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Akaashi pulled out a pen and passed it to him. The doctor then turned to him, as if acknowledging that he was here for the first time. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you are not blood related to Iwaizumi-san, then how are you related to him, might I ask?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Flashing a sheepish smile, Oikawa held up his right hand and hugged Iwaizumi’s arm a little closer. On his ring finger, a single diamond set in a simple pink gold band glittered. “I’m his fiance, see?” </span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>Okay, so it wasn’t as tough as Oikawa thought it would be. Sure, he had run into a few speed bumps, but he was still going 60 in a school zone. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Making Iwaizumi believe in all his lies was as easy as it was heartwrenching. He was, in fact, not as much as a dick as he was when he was drunk. Actually, he was a sweetheart to him, and it seemed that he gladly accepted the fact that he was engaged to this strange, bubbly and undoubtedly attractive man. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had been making visits to the hospital almost every day, bringing food, stuffed toys and more. The junior nurses, now familiar with Oikawa’s presence, had started to make jokes about stealing him away from Iwaizumi. He would always hold up his right hand in reply, upon which the ring glittered in all its rose gold glory. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>All that was left was the overwhelming guilt that he felt. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You okay, Oikawa?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looked up from the cup of coffee he had been stirring for the past 7 minutes. Iwaizumi’s eyebrows were knitted slightly. Not for the first time, he noticed how green his eyes were. They weren’t leaf-green, but they looked more like emeralds. The expression on his face was so genuine in its concern for Oikawa that his heart did a little squeeze of shame. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He smiled, and reached out to caress Iwaizumi’s face lightly. It was rough with stubble. “I’m fine, Iwa-chan.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s good,” he moved a little to his right, and invited Oikawa to sit beside him on the bed. When he did so, Iwaizumi gently took hold of his hand. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tell me about myself. What was I like? Why was I blessed with you?” he asked. Raising Oikawa’s hand to his lips, still held in his own, he kissed his knuckles. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Another embarrassing little heart squeeze. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well…” he started. He hadn’t prepared for this at all. Wait, he didn’t remember anything, right? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“To be honest, you were kind of a dick.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Iwaizumi chuckled. It was a good sound, and Oikawa felt like he wasn’t supposed to hear it. “How so?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You always cared. Sometimes, to the point that it got annoying, but it was always for the best, y’know? You always did your best… For me; for us.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“For us?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Kazuki and Kazumi, you and I.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We have kids?” Iwaizumi’s eyes widened in realisation. He was doing a lot of that nowadays. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not really. I got divorced, see. They were from a previous family I had.” Oikawa released his right hand from Iwaizumi’s, then removed the ring. There was a slight tan line where the ring was. He drew a shaky breath. It seemed so right, and so wrong at the same time, to be talking about her to someone who was a veritable stranger. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Will I meet them soon? The kids, I mean.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Soon, I think. The shock got to them too when we heard the news. But I told them they can’t go to the sick people's place.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At ‘sick people’s place’, Iwaizumi laughed, and Oikawa huffed an indignant “</span>
  <em>
    <span>What?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nothing, it’s just funny how you default to your toddler voice sometimes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, that’s what happens when you have kids, okay?” he hissed at him. However, Oikawa couldn’t stay angry for long, because it was pretty funny. He wasn’t going to admit that to him, though. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Iwaizumi put his arm around him. The warmth of it was a welcome shock to him. “I loved all of you very much, then?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes. yes you did.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you think I can love all of you again?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oikawa felt his breath hitch in his throat for a moment, and it was as though the whole world was waiting for his reply. “With all your heart,” was his whispered response. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you think you can make me love you again?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Iwaizumi’s serious tone had turned slightly humorous, and he looked down at him. At the corner of his mouth was a smirk. “Is that a challenge, Iwa-chan?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What if it is?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, you’re going </span>
  <em>
    <span>down</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>The room filled with giggles and kisses in the orange-pink light of the setting sun. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I owe you big time. Thank you so much,” Oikawa held out to him a few $20 bills. “I don’t know if this is enough, but-” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Suga cut him off, pushing the money back towards him. “It’s always a delight to take care of them. Don’t worry about it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Seeing the look of relief on his face, he continued. “You can pay me back another way, though…” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Despite the slight panic Oikawa felt, he obliged, nodding in understanding. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why not tell me why you need a babysitter so often? Got a new belle I should know about? Or beau, perhaps?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He laughed, unconsciously fiddling with the ring on his right hand. Kenma had given it to him. </span>
  <em>
    <span>It’ll be more convincing.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Perhaps, Suga. Perhaps.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He made a face, as if to say </span>
  <em>
    <span>I see what you did there, oh ho ho </span>
  </em>
  <span>and left, suggesting that they should talk about it over some coffee some day. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Oikawa entered the house, he found a note over a container of omurice. Oops, he thought. Sugawara must have discovered the kitchen cabinets stocked with instant noodles. Sighing, he placed some of it onto a plate and put it into the microwave. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Papa?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kazuki, followed by his sister Kazumi, tottered down the staircase, rubbing his eyes. “What’re you-” a small yawn interrupted his sentence.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’re you doing up? Sugawara-san told me you were both asleep already,” he said in mock surprise. Oikawa hoisted him up onto his hip while Kazumi settled herself on the dining room chair. It was still too low for her, so she opted to stand on it instead. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We heard you come home.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The microwave beeped, signalling that his omurice was ready. Oikawa got a bottle of ketchup from the cabinet above him, then headed towards the dining room with his utensils. As soon as Kazumi saw it, she hopped up and down. “I wanna draw on the omurice!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kazuki butt in, insisting that he was there first. How the hell toddlers could have so much energy after waking up was lost on Oikawa. It usually took him a double shot espresso before he was even presentable. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How about you draw on one half and Kazumi draws on the other, hmm?” he took the ketchup bottle and squirted a line right down the middle of the omurice. The twins, thankfully, conceded to the plan. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Between bites of dinner, Oikawa spoke to them. “I have something I need to talk to you two about.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He put on his serious face while saying this, and the twins immediately understood. They stopped bickering for a short while. To be frank, Oikawa had no idea how to approach the topic. Should he use the ‘when two people love each other’ approach, or the ‘you’re gonna have another dad’ approach? He didn’t want to make them feel like they were dumb, but he also didn’t want to overcomplicate things by-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are we gonna have a new mom?” Kazumi stared up at him with an innocent gaze.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His head shot up immediately. He regretted that, because he had a crick in there somewhere. Rubbing his neck, he looked at Kazumi. “Oh! Uhm… How’d you guess that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Suga-san told us.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oh, that man. Oikawa felt as though he could sometimes gossip better than the mothers at the daycare. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, there’s something else…” he felt stupid for feeling nervous around his own kids. Starting to fiddle with the ring on his ringer, he sighed. “What do you think about having a new dad instead?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>At this, he looked up to face the both of them. Their expressions of excitement hadn’t changed into disgust, bless their little hearts. The both of them just shrugged. “Do you love him, Papa?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I-” he stuttered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oh god, why was today chock-full of difficult questions? His stomach sank a little as he attempted to grin at the both of them. “Of course I do.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then it’s okay,” Kazumi beamed right back at him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>However, little Kazuki’s response was a little less enthusiastic. </span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>Oikawa had just gotten out of the shower when his phone buzzed on his desk. It was a text from Suga, saying that he owed him a coffee. Sighing, he texted back. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Oikawa: how about tomorrow?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Suga: that’s fine with me!</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Curling up in his bed, he couldn’t sleep. He watched the light of traffic and passing vehicle headlights bleed through his curtains and stain the ceiling above him. Oikawa would blame his stress again, but it wasn’t that. He knew that, and he also knew that only an idiot would admit otherwise.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>How on earth was he going to persuade some guy he barely knew that they shared a life together? That they loved each other? He was heading into battle with loose armour. Scratch that, he was heading into battle without any armour at all, and a single kitchen knife. He groaned, and ran his hands through his hair. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was nearing midnight. Checking that the kids were sound asleep, he crept downstairs. Watching a little TV shouldn’t hurt, right? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He switched it on and rubbed his eyes. Although he barely stifled a yawn, he still couldn’t help but flick through all the channels that were still running their transmissions before settling on a rare recording of an old drama he still had. His recordings were simply filled with children’s shows, and he hadn’t even noticed until now. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His mind still couldn’t focus on the drama. The female lead was too annoying and, to be frank, Oikawa preferred the supporting female character. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before he knew it, he was back to staring at his phone. Mindlessly scrolling through Instagram for a bit, he came by a story posted by Akaashi. Of all things, it was him taking a quiz on how well he knew Bokuto, his boyfriend. Undoubtedly, he scored it all correctly. All of a sudden, a thought occurred to him. Even though Iwaizumi knew virtually nothing about him, Oikawa was supposed to know everything about him. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Oikawa: i just realised i have absolutely nothing on this dude. wtf</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kenma: Okay</span>
</p><p>
  <span>O: help?? pls??</span>
</p><p>
  <span>K: Okay</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>Kenma hadn’t meant to sound so curt when he replied. It was just the guilt that was piling up in his chest, constricting it, making it hard for him to breathe. It showed more in some moments, and less in others. He just hoped that the others would mistake it for Just Another Kenma Thing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grimacing at his phone in the darkness of his room, he realised that Kuroo’s sleeping figure was right beside him. He made sure he was turned the other way before texting… her. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Kenma: I need information on Iwaizumi.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hideko: What kind? Like what he likes to do in bed ??</span>
</p><p>
  <span>K: No. General information. Preferred cuisines. Hobbies. His birthday, maybe. Favourite colour?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>H: [File attached]</span>
</p><p>
  <span>H: You can find all of that in here. And more ?? Pretty sure his exes are there too. Maybe his kinks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>K: That last one was not needed. But thanks.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Kenma barely had enough time to close his Messages before he heard a groggy voice over his shoulder. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Whatcha doing?” Kuroo asked him. His breath tickled his ear. Opening a random mobile game on his phone, he showed the screen to him. “Can’t sleep?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kenma shook his head, and immediately he put his arm at his shoulder level. He was inviting him to use it as a pillow. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maybe it was guilt that made him do it; maybe it was fear of what he thought was to come. Nevertheless, he curled up into his body, using his arm as a pillow. All of a sudden, he was enveloped in Kuroo’s scent. He breathed it in, not unlike taking a drag on a cigarette. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was the smell of the very same body soap he had in his bathroom that they both used, but it was still different. It was Kuroo. Kenma still faced away from him. He couldn’t bring himself to look him in the eye; he couldn’t bring himself to look into anyone’s eye these days. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kuroo rested a hand on his hip, and murmured something about how he should stop fidgeting in his. He did stop, of course, but his mind didn’t stop wandering until the sun peeked through the curtains.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>hello hello again!! chapter 3 is here :)) i hope you enjoyed it, because i'm afraid this will be the last you'll hear from me for a long time. i'm very sorry to say this, but i'm going through some major burnout right now because of personal issues. i can't enjoy the things i'd usually like to do like writing or even art. i hope you'll understand that even if i try to write now, the product will not be up to par. i also hope that you'll be patient with me as i piece myself back together with flextape so that you can receive the quality content you deserve!! thank you for everything.</p><p>xo,<br/>kalivio</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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